Deadly Aim (42 page)

She doubled over and grabbed his leg, throwing him off balance. He fell forward, landing heavily on the tiled floor.
His gun flew out of his hand and skittered across the room. Angel dove for it, rolled over, and staggered to her feet.

“Stop right there.” She held the gun with both hands, her arms stretched out, ready to fire. Blood dripped from her nose onto the tile floor. “Move a muscle and I’ll shoot.”

“You won’t shoot me, Angel.” Eric began rising to his feet.

“You don’t want to take that chance.” But her mouth had gone desert dry. She licked her lips. Was he right? Would she shoot? Her hands were shaking and so wet with perspiration she was afraid the gun would slip out of her grasp.

Eric stood up, keeping his eyes fixed on her. The patio door slammed open. Callen stood with his legs apart, both hands holding his gun. “Hold it right there, Mason.”

Eric ignored the order and dove at Angel. She pulled the trigger. Eric kept coming. She fell to the floor, her head connecting with the tile. The room swirled around her, and everything went black.

A
ngel felt a large, warm hand wrap securely around hers. Callen’s hand. Odd that she would know that. “Hi,” she croaked.

“Hey.” He leaned forward and brushed his hand against her cheek.

She opened her eyes and closed them again, the light too bright to tolerate. She’d seen enough to know that she was still in Callen’s house. She could hear voices. EMTs, she decided, and police officers. “Eric. Is he...?”

“You got him in the chest. Punctured a lung. He’ll live.”

“Callen, he was—”

“Shh. Don’t try to talk now.”

“He put something under your deck.” She tried to sit up. Pain shot through the back of her head, almost taking her out again.

“Easy. Better if you don’t move.” Callen eased her back down. “They’ll have you on a stretcher in a minute.”

Callen let go of her hand when they put her into the ambulance, and promised he’d see her at the hospital.

Somewhere on the way there, Angel disengaged. At least that’s what it felt like. She was vaguely aware of being admitted and of people coming and going during the night. On Friday morning the doctor told her she could go home—not to her
apartment, but to her parents’ home. “Just for a few days,” the doctor had said. “You need someone to watch over you.”

Someone to watch over you
. It sounded like the title of a thriller. Maybe it was. The doctor’s words almost made her cry, because he was right. And for the first time in a long while, she was thankful to have people who were willing to care for her.

Tim drove her home, and her mother tucked her into bed in her old room, giving her a bell to ring when she needed help. “Ma,” Angel said when her mother went to leave the room. “Thanks.”

Tears filled Anna’s eyes. “No need to thank me, honey. It’s what mothers do.”

Angel slept most of the day. When she awoke, it was to those familiar smells coming from the kitchen. She felt almost normal until she tossed the covers aside. Her head still throbbed, but her body hurt more. The doctor had told her she was lucky not to have broken anything.

She held her breath as she urged her muscles to comply so she could get out of bed. She wasn’t sure how she did it, but she managed to take a shower and get dressed. She got as far as the living room before collapsing on the sofa. Funny how quickly the body got tired out after a trauma.

“You must be feeling better.” Anna stepped through the arch from the kitchen to the living room. “What are you doing up?”

“I smelled food, and I’m starving.”

She grinned. “Good. Callen and I have been cooking all day.”

“Callen’s here?”

“I sent him out for some ice cream.”

Angel leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and smiled.

“Something came for you from Brandon.” Anna picked up a card from the coffee table. “These flowers came with it.”

Angel glanced at the bouquet of roses. “You should’ve woken me up.”

“He didn’t come himself.” Her mother’s tone indicated dis-approval. “They were delivered.”

Angel opened the card, and a folded note dropped out.

Dear Angel, I guess by now you’ve heard that all the charges have been dropped against Michelle. I just wanted to thank you for what you said the other night. I am in love with her, and she loves me as well. She’s agreed to marry me. Look for a June wedding. Love, Brandon
.

Angel folded the letter and inserted it and the card in the envelope.

“Is everything okay?” Anna glanced at the card, curiosity getting the best of her.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.” She handed the note to her mother. “Brandon’s getting married.” It seemed strange to say the words aloud. After all the time they’d been going together, she’d thought she and Brandon would end up married one day. Apparently God had something else in mind.

“He is?” Anna read the letter. “What a terrible thing to do to you, and only days after proposing. Are you upset?”

“No. Relieved, actually.” Angel stretched out on the couch and closed her eyes. “I’m so tired.”

“Getting hit in the head does that to you. Sleep. We’ll eat when you wake up.”

Some time later, Angel heard the door open. Callen came in carrying a bag of groceries in one hand and a bunch of tulips in the other. He stopped when he saw her. His green gaze locked with hers. Her heart skipped like water over stones.

He closed the door with his shoulder. “Hey. Welcome back.”

“Thanks.” She glanced at the flowers. “Are those for me?”

“Ah...” He grinned. “Actually, they’re for your mother, but I bet she’ll share.”

“Oh.”

Anna hurried in from the kitchen. Taking the flowers she said, “They’re perfect. Thanks. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.” He bent down and kissed her cheek. “If anything, I owe you.”

“Don’t be silly. For what could you possibly owe me?”

“For treating me like family.”

Anna blushed and with a wave of her hand scurried back to the kitchen. Callen winked at Angel and followed her. He set the
groceries on the counter then came back into the living room. Sitting on the couch, he reached for Angel’s hand. “How are you? Really.”

“Better.” She stared at their joined hands. “Tell me what happened. Why was Eric at your house? What was in that package?”

“Long story.”

“I have time.”

He glanced toward the kitchen. “Tell you what. Let’s eat dinner first, and then I’ll take you for a drive.”

“Deal.”

After dinner, Callen drove them to one of Angel’s favorite spots on the beach. The sun was making its final descent, leaving behind a hazy film of pink-tinged clouds. The horizon glowed red-orange to pale yellow above a deep blue line. They watched the brilliant sun disappear into the sea. The moment was almost too perfect to end with talk about murder.

Callen must have felt it too. He wove his fingers through hers and brought her hand to his lips.

Angel frowned. “You are going to tell me what happened, aren’t you, or do I have to read about it in the papers?”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re a nosey little thing, aren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged. Now let’s have it. I figure you owe me for hauling in the big one.”

He chuckled. “Okay, here goes. We’re still sorting through all the evidence, but I can pretty much tell you what went down. Eric had a big side business going in the drug trade. One of his partners was Jake Ensley, a guy who took his boat up and down the coast. About once a week, Ensley would bring ecstasy down here from Astoria and deliver it to ports up and down the coast. When he had a delivery here, he’d put it in the old warehouse, where Eric’s head honcho would pick it up and sell it. He’d brought in a shipment the night I went into the warehouse. Eric had apparently gone in the
back way to check on his shipment and saw me there. He whacked me with his baton. Lab guys said it still has traces of my blood on it.”

Angel shivered. Temperatures had dropped, and she’d only put on a lightweight jacket. Callen pulled a blanket from the backseat and wrapped it around her. “Better?”

“Much.” She rested her head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped securely around her. “What about the package?”

“Ah yes, the package. Eric was trying to hang me by planting evidence at my place but ended up hanging himself.” Callen squeezed her shoulder. “Thanks to your hunger pangs and Mutt’s penchant for the ocean, you caught him in the act. The package contained the stolen evidence along with the .45 used to kill J.J. and Mike’s contact.”

“That’s pretty scary. What if I hadn’t been there?”

“It wouldn’t have taken long to figure it out. With the stolen evidence, I had a feeling we might be dealing with a dirty cop, so I had a couple people in the lab going over the logs for every day, pinpointing where each officer was at any given time. Eric failed the test.”

“What about Billy?”

“The .40-caliber casing I found in the warehouse came from Eric’s duty weapon.”

“But you checked his gun right after it happened. Nick did too.”

“He’d put in a new magazine.”

She nodded. “And stole the evidence knowing the GSR would read positive.”

“Right. There’s no doubt he did it.”

Relief mingled with shame that she’d doubted her father. “I feel terrible.” She told Callen about her suspicions.

“I wish you’d said something earlier, Angel. I could’ve set your mind at ease. I knew Frank had been near the pharmacy that day. Dispatch had him on the other side of town at the time of the shooting. We checked his weapon against the .40 casing I found at the warehouse.”

Angel frowned. “You checked Eric’s gun against the casing too, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but Eric had three .40 Glocks. We found them in his apartment. One of them matched. That was all we needed.”

“I still can’t believe it. Not once in the year I worked with him did I suspect that he was dealing drugs.”

“No one knew. He led two separate lives. And that matching gun had a sordid past. It once belonged to a police officer named Butch Mason. He was killed with his own gun eleven years ago, and the gun was never found until now.”

“Mason? Eric killed his father?”

“Looks that way. Eric’s being charged with killing J.J., Billy, Alex, and Mike’s contact. There may be others. I have a feeling we’ve just scratched the surface.”

“I still don’t get it. Why would Eric kill Billy?”

“He says he was covering your back.”

“What?” Angel shook her head. “No... he would have come forward right away.”

“Not necessarily. He may not have wanted anyone to know he was in the back of the warehouse. He definitely wouldn’t have wanted to draw attention to himself. He’d be questioned—especially after we found the body.”

He paused and curled a strand of her hair around his finger. “I have another theory. My guess is that Billy caught him looking down at J.J. and somehow recognized him as Duke. Eric and his uncle were business partners.”

“So we really don’t know the true motivation.” Angel hated loose ends.

“Not yet, but we will. Between Ray Broadman and Eric, we’ll piece everything together eventually.”

“And Kelsey?”

Callen shook his head. “We haven’t found a connection there yet. Might be an unrelated case.”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t kill Eric. I feel bad enough having shot him.”

“You’re one brave woman, Angel, taking on a guy like that.” His Adam’s apple moved up and down. He covered his eyes and
lowered his head, and when he looked at her, tears glistened in his eyes.

“I had to do something. He was going to kill you.”

“I know. You shook me up though.” He looked toward the ocean. “When I pulled Eric off you and saw all that blood, I thought you were dead.”

Angel turned and caressed his face. “I’m sorry.”

He smiled. “Don’t be. Strange as it may seem, that was when I realized how important you had become to me.” He touched a finger to her lips and gently brushed across the bruise Eric had left on her cheek.

“Angel.” He turned slightly, lifting her chin. “I don’t want to talk about Eric anymore. I want to know where I stand with you.”

Angel wanted to close her eyes and lean toward him, letting his lips cover hers. She wanted to say “I love you” but couldn’t quite manage it. “Obstacles,” she surprised herself by saying.

“You mean Brandon?” Callen frowned.

“Not Brandon. He’s going to marry Michelle Kelsey.” She twisted back around and leaned heavily into the seat.

Callen chuckled. “That’s great. So what’s the problem?”

“Me. I don’t know how to explain it.” She had so much emotional baggage to work out, it didn’t seem fair to saddle Callen with it.

“Try. I really want to know.”

“Well, all my life I’ve been doing things to please my dad. To get him to pay attention to me—to be proud of me and to love me.”

“He does love you. You should’ve seen him when I told him what had happened to you.”

“I know he does, in his own way. He just never showed it like I wanted him to.” She massaged her temples. “I became a police officer because I thought it would make him proud of me. I almost quit a few times but didn’t want to disappoint dear old Dad. Now I realize I don’t have to please him.”